


Twice As Smart

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Literal AU [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Literally Alternate Universe, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: John wants to ask Sherlock a question and walks into... himself?





	Twice As Smart

**Author's Note:**

> I assume the person who understands John best is actually only another John Watson ;)

He took a long, shuddering breath as he looked at the black door to 221. It was going to be a challenge. Sherlock was going to be snarky. Sentiment. Social conventions. Conservatism. Tradition. He was going to mumble and snarl and roll his eyes.

But there was no other option. He had to ask him. 

Finally he pushed the door open and started slowly upstairs.

“Oh, John!” Mrs Hudson smiled at him from her door, but then frowned.  “I thought I’ve heard you going upstairs half an hour ago…”

“Must have been just the stairs creaking” he tried to smile back, but the right facial muscles didn’t allow him to. “I only got here a minute ago.”

“Nevermind. Maybe something on the telly. Go up, go up. Sherlock told me he will be sometime after five today, so you have time…”

He nodded sharply and took two stairs at a time, getting upstairs…

…the door was slightly ajar.

The kitchen table was set. For two.

_Fuck._

And there was someone in the kitchen, someone who was definitely not Sherlock, which meant…

A whistling figure holding a single golden candle rounded the corner and stopped as if he had hit an invisible wall.

“What the  _fuck_?” they said in unison.

“Aah” John managed to draw a breath first. “Fuck me sideways.”

“Actually, I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, could be considered some very unusual type of incest.”

The other John slowly placed the candle on the table and raised his eyebrows, looking at him.

“Doctor Watson, I presume?”

“Yep. Same?”

“Same.”

“Fuck.”

“Indeed.”

They stood for a moment in silence, each watching the other intently.

“Clone?”

“Not that I know of. Twin?”

“It’s never twins. And it would be too stupid.”

“Options?”

“Parallel universes.”

“Time travel.”

“Good one, yeah…” the local John - he had to consider him local, he was cooking the bloody dinner! - licked his lips. “Sherlock will be back in an hour. Unless this is the universe granting him his dearest wish, I suppose we should make sure this is resolved by then.”

“Concur. One question though…”

“Why are we that fucking calm?”

“Yeah.”

“I would suggest that lack of a jumping overactive madman may be contributing to our general feeling of relaxation. Also, I picked up some anti-stress exercises and they do me a lot of good.”

“New Age mumbo-jumbo.”

“Nah, regular medicine and meditation. I will give you a leaflet.”

“You live here, with him?”

“Yep. You?”

“Ah…” he sighed. “Coming to ask him a question, actually.”

“Oh!” the local one brightened. “Tell me! I mean, if you can… Who  _can_  you tell if not yourself?”

He snorted. Yeah, his other self was the only one who would be able to understand the dilemma.

“I am… I want to get married.”

“Good luck with that” his copy snorted. “He is  _atrocious_  with social conventions.”

“Well, I was going to ask him to just… you know. For once… For me…”

“You can probably get him to agree, if you put it like this. I suppose. But I would not bet heavily on seeing him in front of the altar, John. He is not… Not a marrying type, I suppose.”

He frowned.

“What? No! I wasn’t going to ask him to  _marry_  me, I want him to be my best man!”

The other John shook his head and squinted.

“Best man? Is this… I mean, some kind of joke? Are you trying to make him jealous? Oh, I see. Shamming that you want to marry Lestrade in order to get Sherlock’s attention? No. No. Wait… Don’t tell me. Mycroft?”

“What? Fuck, no!”

“I will note that you didn’t protest at ‘Lestrade’.”

“And I’m not marrying Greg, either! Come on! No, I’m marrying  _Mary_.”

“Mary?”

“Of course Mary. Who would I be marrying, for God’s sake,  _Molly_?”

“Sherlock, I suppose” the other one laughed. “Obviously!”

“I am  _not_  gay” John stated softly. “And if you were me, you’d know it.”

“You are not  _straight_  either, my brother” otherJohn cocked his head. “Or is it a problem in the world you come from? I mean, you obviously don’t come from my future, because you’d remember this, and not from my past because  **I**  would remember this. Easy answer, you are from another universe. The differences cannot be too big…”

“Or we two would not be  _that_  similar. Built, colouring, personal history, even living with Sherlock.”

“That means the point of divergence must be somewhere after we met  Sherlock.”

“Cabbie? Shot?”

“Shot. Wilkes?”

“Always a wanker, no other way. Moriarty?”

“Even bigger wanker. Pool? Snipers?”

“Yep. And the most annoying ringtone possible.”

“Hate BeeGees now. Adler?”

“Pretty and fucking tease.”

“Yep. Did you see his bare ass?”

“Oh, yeah… I mean, yes, Mycroft stepped on the sheet.”

His copy smirked at him insolently.

“Baskerville?”

“Just… don’t. Still have fucking nightmares.”

“Yeah. Same with me. Hate dogs, too.”

“Can’t stand anything taller than two feet.”

They stood in silence for a moment and finally the local one nodded.

“The fall then?”

“Yeah. Bart’s, phonecall?”

“Yeah. And the idiot cyclist who almost ran me over.”

“Who… what?”

They blinked.

“I fell and hit my head. Didn’t get to him in time. They just took him away and I never knew…”

“Shit.”

A glass of scotch was pressed into his hand.

“I felt his pulse, the idiot didn’t have time to press the stupid ball into his armpit” his - well - brother explained. “I knew he was fine. Of course, had to stay in London alone for a year and change, playing the grieving friend. Picked up a few stragglers from Moriarty’s net that way, actually. They approached me… which brings me back to Mary. You mean Mary Morstan, the nurse?”

John swallowed the burning liquid.

“Yeah. Pretty, blonde, cute, funny, sexy.”

His twin made a face.

“You had  _sex_  with her?”

“Don’t tell me you are some conservative who would never sleep with a girl without putting a ring on it.”

“No, I mean… Oh, but you didn’t know he… You actually  _were_  grieving him. Fuck. He messed you up, pretty much. Shiiit. Yeah. I picked her up - I mean, she tried it with me, but I was in contact with Mycroft and asked him to screen her the moment she started going weird. You know, neither of us is the most attractive bloke in town, so who would a well-paid, professional etc etc etc woman suddenly get interested in us?”

He blindly grasped behind himself for a chair and fell into it heavily.

“You mean she is…”

“One of Moriarty’s. A plant. Set on us to get to our Sherlocks. Well, mine is now in a high security prison. And yours?”

John glanced at the wall clock.

“On her way home from work, I suppose.”

“You  _live_  with her? I mean… No offence, but fuck, man…” otherJohn rubbed his eyes and slid down the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Did you propose?”

“Not… not exactly.”

“How can you propose not exactly?”

“Sherlock managed to… Interrupt. Stuff happened and she kind of took the ring without me ever asking.”

“Crap. And you were going to ask him to be your best man? I mean, don’t you two  _talk_  about anything?”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that he loves you and almost died for you? Fuck, man, that whole rigmarole with jumping was all about it!”

He felt his heart stop and skip a beat.

“What?”

His twin groaned.

“OK, it’s half hour before he comes back, tops, so, short version. Moriarty told Sherlock that either he jumps or three well paid snipers kill three people - me, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. I am assuming the same happened in your world. By the way, Mary was the one who was supposed to shoot you.”

“…the fuck…”

“Yeah. So Sherlock jumped and went undercover, getting rid of Moriarty’s people around the world. Idiotic in the extreme, but worked pretty well. I was on this side, picking the local talent off together with Mycroft’s people, because nobody treated me seriously enough. Cuddly cute little doctor, you know the spiel. Anyway, he came back, we took out the last few stragglers and now we are back here, solving crimes and having regular sex life. I mean, together.”

“But he said… Married to his work…”

“Well, then I’m the dirty mistress. Happy with the position, not going to unseat his first love.”

“But he… I mean…”

“Not asexual. Just reserved and very, very careful. Gay, of course, Not going to give you any details, you will find out for yourself. Just… Fuck, how do we get you home?”

“I’m not sure how I got  _here_ , although… Now that I think about it…”

“Later. Quick version since - we fight crime, now working on some pretty fucked up guy that publishes people’s secrets. Pay attention to Magnussen when you’re back, if you haven’t met yet.”

“Nope.”

“Catch the bugger early then. Tell Mycroft that bloke is an actual sociopath, quite unlike Sherlock. Aaand… Yeah, that’s it. Mary is an internationally known and searched assassin, her real name is ‘Rose Atkins’ and she used to be CIA, then went freelance. Also, was present at the pool - the one who was aiming at Sherlock.”

“Gonna be sick” he curled up, hiding his face in his knees. “Shit.”

“Fifteen minutes, soldier. OK, now. We have to find out where you might have crossed the barrier. The tube?”

“Walked here.”

“OK, maybe some crossing? Anything out of ordinary?”

“Nope. The busker on the corner is the same as every Wednesday.”

“There is no busker on our corner. Good, that means it’s somewhere between here and the corner. What was outside?”

“Just people in front of Speedy’s. Someone complaining about the sun. Nothing specific.”

His twin smiled widely.

“It’s raining today” he rose to his feet quickly. “Mrs Hudson, yours or ours?”

“Yours. She said you walked upstairs already.”

“That leaves us with the main door.”

He licked his lips nervously.

“So… I just walk downstairs and cross the door…”

“And either you get drenched or you are back home. In the first eventuality, you come back here and we wait for Sherlock. In the second, good luck.”

He sighed.

“Rose Atkins.”

“Yep.”

“And… Sherlock… he really does…?”

“Yes. Told me. I mean, there is a risk that yours doesn’t, but, John…” his twin smiled. “Don’t you think it’s worth trying?”

He blinked and looked away.

“Yep. Definitely.”

He walked downstairs, carefully stepping to avoid the creaking stair and opened the door.

The sun was blinding and the busker on the corner was in the middle of another song.


End file.
